Chapter 147: Field Studies

The pleasant smell of freshly brewed coffee blended with the aroma of medicinal herbs.

“Are you feeling better, Klara?”

Finishing pouring the dark liquid into her mug, the golden-haired woman adjusted the crown on her head before dropping several sugar cubes into her drink.

“Yes, thanks to everyone’s help I was able to recover quickly, Your Highness.”

With a radiant smile on her face, Klara mercilessly handed over a massive pile of documents to the high elf seated in front of her.

“How many cases require supervision…?”

Staring at the towering stack of papers that had suddenly materialized on her temporary desk, Elarielle struggled not to stammer, her emerald eyes subtly trembling.

“Enough that I haven’t had time to sleep for the last four days.”

The cold tone of her words was enough to send a chill down even the queen’s spine. Straightening her back slightly, Klara adjusted her lab coat and quickly resumed her rounds through the infirmary.

With no choice but to start working, Elarielle let out a small sigh.

With much of the castle still under reconstruction, her belongings had been stacked in the first barracks, where the healers’ efforts had been concentrated.

Even as queen, due to the excessive number of emergency beds set up, she now found her workspace limited to a small corner of a room in the infirmary.

“After this, I’ll need to start restocking the supply of advanced potions…”

Dark circles under her eyes, Elarielle began reviewing each of the medical records individually.

During the battle, she had to travel through the forest, confronting the traitors who continued wreaking havoc to keep the barrier down and heal the wounds in the roots. Because of this, Elarielle had been unable to participate directly in the defense of the city, which inevitably led to a higher number of casualties among both soldiers and civilians.

Even with Thelira now handling the palace’s internal affairs and the city’s reconstruction, Elarielle remained responsible for the army and hospitals. And so, though she was exhausted and would gladly have slept for another entire week, it was her duty to check everyone’s condition and do her utmost to ensure no mistakes were made in their treatments.

Tapping her coffee mug lightly against the table and crossing her legs, the queen let out a faint sigh while adjusting her white coat.

“And what exactly are you doing here all alone, Paper Eater?”

Her emerald eyes locked onto a specific spot in the infirmary. Hidden behind one of the partitions of the empty beds, a figure cloaked in black timidly peeked at the heroine.

“Lily is tending the garden.”

Speaking in a whisper, Nia stepped out from her temporary hiding place and walked over to Elarielle.

The preparation of a hanging garden involved far more than Nia had imagined. Even before harvesting the flowers, there were factors such as assembling the wooden structure, gathering the proper soil, accounting for the weight of the pots, setting up an irrigation system, and preparing the substrate and fertilizer.

Though Nia wanted to be present for all her wife’s activities, the metamorph knew that gardening was one of the Lily’s favorite pastimes. And even though she would never be bothered by her presence, Nia understood the importance of having personal time to dedicate to what one loved.

If Lily called, she would return immediately. But instead of simply wasting time doing something meaningless, the metamorph thought she might as well work on something too.

“By the way, couldn’t you have your subordinate actually use the room prepared for her?” Elarielle sighed as she took another sip of coffee. “I was informed that Rhei has been visiting Thelira every night this past week.”

The elf’s words reminded Nia that they had left Rhei in charge of assisting Thelira before returning home. Even if she now trusted them enough to allow them to remain in the forest, Elarielle still didn’t know the guardian, so her concern was justifiable.

In a way, not even Nia fully understood the bee-woman’s intentions, but judging that she wasn’t a threat—and trusting Lily’s judgment—the metamorph had taken no action against her.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Nia nodded once, carefully adjusting the hood over her head.

“So then, what brought you here? If it were about Lily’s pregnancy, you would have brought her along.”

Casually pushing all the records and stacks of paper away from the metamorph with the back of her arm, the queen took another sip of her coffee.

“I want you to teach me elven healing magic.”

“No fucking way.”

Elarielle replied without a shred of hesitation.

“Look, I truly appreciate all the help you gave us during the attack, I really do, but I can’t hand over the secrets of my race to you.”

Her brows furrowing, the queen took another sip of her coffee.

“Besides, you can already regenerate yourself and Lily—why exactly do you need to learn this kind of magic?”

Nia couldn’t exactly say that part of her reason was to develop a spell similar to her body modification ability with her gelatinous mass, so Lily’s friends could also create opposite-sex genitals.

Procreation was a desire shared by all species, so Nia supported her wife’s wish to see her friends bearing descendants.

Placing a discreet hand over her belly, Nia closed her eyes, letting a relaxed smile spread across her face.

“Just wait a little longer—Lily will fertilize each of you in the future.” Whispering so faintly it was almost inaudible, Nia gently caressed her abdomen, right where her ovaries rested.

She couldn’t stop the heat from rushing to her face, her cheeks flushing as the thought of Lily’s seed impregnating each of her eggs made her rub her thighs together more than once in secret.

“If I can understand the process behind cellular regeneration even better, I can restore my limbs even faster.” Finally raising her voice to an audible tone for the queen, Nia stepped a little closer, slowly. “Elves hold the monopoly on all healing spells in the world. I can’t learn this anywhere else. I’d like to study it—even if just a little.”

Her clear and coherent explanation inevitably made the elf’s expression tighten.

Elarielle let out a heavy sigh, running her hand through her blonde hair several times before finally standing up.

“If it’s just the basics, then it won’t be a problem.”

Opening a drawer from her desk, Elarielle took out a simple pair of glasses. Stepping closer to Nia, she pulled back the girl’s hood, revealing her beautiful face, and precisely set the glasses on her eyes.

“It’s not exactly common knowledge, but if there are any elves here who fought in the war, there’s a chance they’ll attack you the moment they see your eyes. I’m not asking you to hide them—just stop sneaking around like some wanted criminal.”

Though reluctant, Nia had no choice but to agree with the elf’s words.

In an instant, her dress dissolved, giving way to a black sweater that covered her from neck to waist, paired with a tight skirt that reached down to her knees. Her legs, clad in dark stockings, contrasted with the long white lab coat draped over her back.

“What is it?” Tilting her head and adjusting the glasses over her eyes, Nia looked at Elarielle, who wore an indecipherable expression.

Rubbing her furrowed brow several times, Elarielle fixed the girl with an intense gaze. “Please, if someone flirts with you, don’t kill them on the spot.”

Realizing she now couldn’t avoid supervising the girl—who at the moment carried an appearance capable of shaking sanities without even noticing it—Elarielle began guiding Nia through the infirmary.

“Healing magic really is convenient,” Nia whispered under her breath.

Even though a large-scale battle against monsters and demons had taken place, it was hard to believe that the people here had been on the brink of death just a few days before.

Spread across various rooms and corridors, numerous cots held elves lying down. Yet, aside from thin layers of bandages and salves wrapped around their limbs, not a single trace of blood marred their bodies.

“That’s the first thought you need to unlearn, Paper Eater.” Holding a medical record in her hand, Elarielle lightly tapped it against the head of an elven soldier who was trying to rise from his cot.

The man, who had been discreetly attempting to walk without his crutches, felt his whole body tremble as the queen’s gaze pierced into him. Nodding over and over in desperate apology, he quickly relented.

“Healing magic, when used to reconstruct parts of the body, only drains the caster’s mana, but it ends up consuming the recipient’s vitality. Just because we can regenerate an arm or a leg doesn’t mean that person immediately returns to normal.”

Handing the soldier his crutches, his leg wrapped in layers of bandages, Elarielle accompanied him all the way to the physiotherapy ward.

“For most people, having a new limb created from nothing isn’t the same as getting their old one back. The brain can’t process the new nerves right away—it has to relearn how to use them. Even someone who was right-handed all their life will struggle as much as if they were suddenly forced to write with their left hand when using a newly formed right arm.”

Her ponytail, tied masterfully by her fairy into the shape of a hair ribbon, swayed as Elarielle turned to face the metamorph.

“If we overuse healing spells and tend to every minor injury with them, the patient’s body won’t develop antibodies properly. It’s no use healing a wound if you die from the bacteria that entered while it was still open.”

“So that’s why you’re using medicine instead of spells to treat infections?” Nia asked, watching several elves in white coats grinding herbs in mortars.

“Except in more severe cases, I won’t allow colds or similar to be treated with spells. Besides, spells against fungal and bacterial infections work by eliminating the pathogen directly inside the person’s body. That kind of magic is far more advanced than simple healing. It’s much too risky to use it for something so trivial.”

Nia understood that just as healing spells could restore a person’s body, regenerating or creating new cells, they could also destroy those same cells.

By using this magic on a small scale, it was possible to cure diseases inside a person’s body, targeting and eliminating only the parts responsible for the problem. But by amplifying its scale and generalizing the effect across the entire body, it could just as easily kill someone—completely destroying their cells. Such a technique was one of the hero’s trump cards, and Nia concluded it was likely also the elves’ Absolute Magic.

“Oh? Since when do we have this doctor around here?”

Rubbing her sleepy eyes as she finished tending to a patient, Klara glanced at the purple-haired girl walking beside the hero.

“Klara, this is the Paper Eater. She’ll be joining us for today.” Even while receiving a terrifying glare, the hero introduced Nia without managing to hide her laughter.

“Good morning, Paper Eater. I’m Klara.”

Perhaps due to the lack of proper sleep—or simply because she was too busy to even notice—Klara only greeted Nia with a quick nod before moving on to her next patient.

“Don’t look at me like that. You built that name for yourself.” Elarielle laughed openly, walking down the corridor, though she could practically feel the killing intent leaking in her direction.

Watching the queen of the elves laughing as she walked, Nia genuinely thought she should have at least struck her one more time back when she had the chance.

With a soft sigh, Nia adjusted the glasses sliding down her nose and began following the women.

Even after visiting ward after ward for hours, aside from simple medication checks and verifying intravenous lines, not a single doctor used any kind of spell.

Just as she was about to give up and return home, a loud cry rang out from one of the entrances.

“Emergency!”

The sound of wheels skidding across the floor echoed through the underground wing. Running as fast as they could, two elves rushed in, pushing a stretcher toward the doctors.

“Male, one hundred and fifty-two years old, fell from scaffolding at a construction site, currently unconscious!”

Swiftly, one of the elves explained the situation to the black-haired woman, sweat dripping down his face, clear proof that he had sprinted the entire way.

Positioning the stretcher inside an isolated room, Klara entered with another doctor, deftly pulling on gloves and fitting a mask over her mouth.

Standing by and observing, Nia wondered why Elarielle wasn’t doing anything, but with just a tilt of her chin toward the black-haired woman, the hero signaled her to simply watch.

Placing her hand over the unconscious man’s chest, several green pulses spread from Klara’s fingers, running toward the man’s head and feet for several seconds.

“The fracture is comminuted,” Klara stated firmly, her dark eyes fixed on the tangled mess of flesh at the elf’s hip. “The femur has fragmented in three distinct points, opening a deep laceration in the vastus lateralis.”

Turning to the two elves who had brought the man in, Klara raised her voice to draw their attention, though her tone remained composed.

“Do we know where he fell?”

“On the forest floor, beneath the bridges.” Exhausted as he was, the elf still answered quickly.

“Then the visible contamination is only soil. The tissue hasn’t had time to putrefy thanks to how fast you brought him here. Even so, we’ll need to wash the wound before treatment to kill off the microorganisms.” Handling a small vial of liquid with precision, Klara began irrigating the wound while removing bits of dirt with tweezers. “Please, set up an IV line in his arm and administer anti-inflammatories.”

Showing not even the faintest trace of fatigue on her face, Klara skillfully cleaned the man’s wounds while instructing her assistant on the next steps.

And then, after making sure the wound was clean and the bleeding under control, the healer finally gathered mana in her hand, a green aura wrapping around the wounded man’s body.

Slowly, each of the man’s injuries began to close. The process, though slow, was executed with meticulous precision, leaving no room for error.

“Healing magic is based on using our mana to stimulate the body into producing tissue, forcing its cells to multiply more quickly. This allows us to close wounds without the need for stitches. In a way, it follows the same principle as a healing potion.”

Unable to take her eyes off Klara’s deft hand, Nia heard Elarielle’s voice beside her.

“And in cases where simply closing the wound wouldn’t be enough?” Nia asked.

“In those more severe cases, like severed limbs, the spellcaster must act as a guide for the cells, inducing them to assume forms and functions they normally wouldn’t. We must take into account nerves, bones, and carefully direct the blood flow to avoid harming the heart or increasing pressure on the internal organs.”

Closing the curtain that separated the room from the rest of the infirmary to keep curious eyes away, Elarielle promptly began writing the wounded man’s medical record.

“Although the spell itself is the same, depending on the structure we’re trying to recreate, each healer may or may not be able to carry it out.” The words, spoken with methodical precision, came from none other than the elf treating the injured man. Still casting her magic, Klara glanced subtly at Nia, the smile beneath her mask evident in her eyes. “For example, aside from Her Highness Elarielle, I’m the only elf who can fully recreate damaged vital organs from scratch. But even I can’t do it in just a few seconds on the battlefield, as she can. It will take me ten minutes to finish closing this leg and another fifteen for the hip.”

Nia understood what Klara meant.

Even though her portals were theoretically the same each time, the coordinate calculations changed depending on the distance and what she was transporting. Even if the cost in dark mana remained constant, the mental effort differed.

When it came to the structure of the human body, Nia didn’t think her knowledge fell behind Elarielle’s or anyone else’s. And because of that, she knew just how impressive it was for these people to handle the restoration of each cell of the ones they intended to heal.

As she sank deeper into thought, Nia noticed Elarielle handing her a carefully rolled piece of parchment.

“These are the symbols for a basic regeneration spell, which follows the same principle as a healing potion. I can’t give you anything more advanced, but this should probably be at the level you can grasp.”

A healing spell was something priceless. With the elves holding the monopoly over them and healers chosen with extreme care, it was no exaggeration to say that only a handful of people in the world had access even to this basic spell.

Such an item, which could be worth thousands of gold coins, was a clear gesture of goodwill from Elarielle. And yet…

“Hm? It’s fine. I’ve already learned what I needed.”

Without even taking the parchment from the elf’s hands, Nia walked over to the man on the cot and extended her hand toward his chest.

“W-Wait, Paper Eater, what are you doing!?”

Caught off guard, Elarielle tried to rush toward the metamorph, but a massive surge of dark mana pushed her back. A crimson-purple glow spread across the room like tiny bolts of lightning, and a shroud of black light wrapped around the man’s body.

Under the jet-black radiance, the torn muscle fibers began to slither like serpents, intertwining with one another. The exposed, throbbing flesh became covered by a fresh layer of living, pink, healthy tissue. Each deep laceration sealed shut as the fractured pieces of the femur aligned themselves back into place, fusing together as if reforged.

“You’ve got to be joking… right?” Elarielle muttered.

In just a single minute, every one of the man’s wounds was healed.

Slowly, the dark glow faded, and Nia stepped away from the man.

“Decomposition magic is impossible without the proper spell, but your explanation of cellular regeneration and guiding foreign cells with mana was enough for me to adapt my own method into a generalized form. It’s not as efficient as that spell you used to heal my exhaustion—which even reached my soul—or when you regenerated your arm after that dog tore it off, but it’s enough for me to start working on what I need.”

Bowing slightly toward the hero, Nia conjured a portal that shimmered like a starry sky.

“Thank you for the explanation, Miss Hero. I have to go—it’s time to prepare dinner.”

Without so much as a backward glance, the purple-haired girl stepped through the portal and vanished.

In the room, now swallowed by complete silence, Elarielle and Klara stared at each other for several long minutes, wondering whether what they had just witnessed was real—or simply the result of their lack of sleep.